


I wait for spread fingers and vulnerable palm

by ashers_kiss



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: (I was told to put that one ¬__¬), Canonical Character Death, M/M, spacehusbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2017-12-13 10:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/823508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashers_kiss/pseuds/ashers_kiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You are not proposing to me with <i>logic</i>.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	I wait for spread fingers and vulnerable palm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> For the record, this is all [littleblackghost](http://archiveofourown.org/users/littleblackghost/pseuds/littleblackghost)'s fault.
> 
> I’m going to apologise for any inaccuracies with Kirk’s, uh, radiation symptoms. I tried to do some research, but the only things I could find all had images I really can’t look at attached to them, so. :S I tried to keep things with Uhura vague, so you guys could read it however you wanted: either as a V-shaped threesome (spoiler: that's what was in my head), or as Kirk just being a dick. :D?
> 
> Title from [Civil War](http://sincerelyjoanna.tumblr.com/post/37916144081) by Joanna Joseph.

Admittedly, Jim wasn’t exactly sure what he should be expecting when Spock turned up at his apartment – except the mind-blowing sex, of course, but that was pretty much a given these days – but it sure as hell wasn’t a _marriage proposal_.

“What the _hell_ ,” he repeated, because – _because_. Marriage. What the _hell_. He needed a drink. A big one.

“Marriage would be the logical next step for this relationship,” Spock said, and even with Jim’s head inside the minibar, he didn’t sound anything more than slightly muffled.

“Pretty sure that would be living together first,” Jim muttered, mostly to himself, then he pulled himself up to glare over the top of the fridge. It was a good one, he knew it was; he’d been taking lessons from Bones. “You are not proposing to me with _logic_.”

Spock had that vaguely confused look on his face, the one that Jim refused to find even a little adorable (especially when he was sitting only half-dressed on Jim’s bed. That was more than distracting enough). He opened his mouth, and Jim shook his head. “We’re not getting married,” he told him, getting to his feet and bringing the bottle with him. “Go ask Uhura if you really want to that badly.”

Oh good, this time Spock looked at him like he was stupid. He was used to that one. “Lieutenant Uhura has no wish to get married.”

Smart girl, Jim thought, taking a swig, but what came out his mouth was, “Wait, you _asked_ her?” Because _holy shit_ , that was unfair. “What am I, the consolation prize?”

Back to the confused face again. Wow, he was being positively _emotive_. “That is not how I would describe it.”

“Oh, please, please tell me how you _would_ describe it, because I’m feeling pretty second-grade here.”

So that was another – discussion, Jim refused to call it a fight, and the whole thing got forgotten about in favour of Jim going out drinking with Bones in protest. (“I don’t want to know,” Bones said, pouring Jim his drink, and then sat and listened for nearly two hours before he dumped Jim’s ass back on his own doorstep. He was a good guy.)

It never actually came up again, though there was a moment on Nibiru, on the bridge listening to static where Spock’s comm should have been, when Jim thought, shit, I should’ve said yes. Then Spock was back, pissed at him for breaking the fucking rules to, oh, _save his life_ , and there was a don’t-you-dare-die-on-me blowjob in Jim’s room; after that they were back on Earth, and there was all that shit with the reports and being fucking _demoted_ , and as far as Jim was concerned, they weren’t talking. (Yeah, okay, so that lasted all of three hours. It still counted.)

Everything kind of went to shit after that, and who the hell had time to think about anything as stupid as _marriage_ , anyway.

*

Things were kind of blurry after the warp core – Jim didn’t really remember getting back to the door. (At least it worked. The lights were back, and there was a lot less screaming, that had to be good.) His head kept spinning and his mouth felt like the time Bones had stuffed it full of cotton wool to shut him up. But he remembered Spock, and yeah, there was kind of a tiny little piece of him that wished he wasn’t going to see this, but most of him – most of him was so fucking grateful he didn’t have words for it, because he was _terrified_ and even his skin hurt, felt like it was going to split along the seams on his next breath.

He _wanted_ to say something good, something stupid and comforting. Wanted to say it was going to be okay. That was what people did, right? They lied out their asses.

Except it wasn’t, it really wasn’t, and Jim could hear himself saying shit he’d really rather have kept to himself, but he couldn’t make himself _stop_. “I wanted you to know, why I couldn't let you die. Why I went back for you.”

“Because you are my friend,” Spock said, like it was an indisputable fact.

Because I love you, you moron, Jim wanted to say. It was getting kind of hard to talk though, his throat tightening up, and – shit, Spock was crying. That – that was big, and it hurt, it really fucking hurt, almost as much as everything else did, more. Jim just tried to smile at him instead. He wasn’t sure he did too good a job.

He lifted his hand, pressed it right up against the glass, and his fingers wouldn’t work right and the glass hurt his skin (but it was cold, blissfully cold even as it burned in a completely different way), but Spock got the idea, lifted his own hand, and Jim was going to pretend he could feel it through the glass, because it was the best they were going to get.

Should’ve married you, he thought, tried to force it through the glass, but his throat really, really hurt, and he could barely see, he was so fucking dizzy. It felt like he was _moving_ , even though he couldn’t be, like he was going to throw up, his tongue too big for his mouth – 

Then he remembered nothing but black, for what felt like a really long time.

*

Turned out, “barely dead” _really_ fucking hurt. “Ow,” Jim said, plaintive as he could manage – he’d been _dead_ , he deserved some sympathy. Bones rolled his eyes.

“Quit being such a baby.” He stepped around Spock and all but _growled_. “You’re in my way, Spock.”

Spock actually made to step back, and Jim tightened his grip on Spock’s hand, pulled him back in. “Hey, Bones, give us a minute?”

Bones just looked at him, eyebrows pretty unimpressed, and Jim jerked his head a few times – and, okay, _ow,_ that hurt too. Spock kept looking between them like he thought they’d gone mad, but that wasn’t exactly unusual. Jim glared; he was trying for _subtle_ , here, the least Bones could do was help him out, take the hint. “Oh, come _on_.”

Finally, Bones got it, frowning at him, like Jim really was an idiot. Jim stared right on back, until Bones caved. He always did. “Gotta be kidding me. Fucking lovebirds,” he muttered, storming out – which was a hell of a lot less impressive in his white uniform, Jim was totally making fun of that later – but at least he closed the door behind him. He didn’t slam it, either, because he was a good guy, deep down. Jim let his head flop back to the really shitty pillows, cursing under his breath, and tugged Spock closer. He didn’t put up too much of a fight.

“Hey,” he smiled. He was pretty sure that was an answering…flicker, maybe. “So tell me, really, how’s our ship doing?”

“She is…” Spock paused, like he was looking for the right words, which probably wasn’t a good thing. Jim didn’t think he even realised he kept running his thumb over Jim’s knuckles. “Battered,” he finally settled on, and Jim groaned. That got him more than a flicker, almost a _smirk_. Bones would probably kill him if he dragged Spock down on to the bed to kiss him, but it was tempting. “Both Mr Scott and Mr Checkov have been working almost constantly, and estimates put completion dates in the next five weeks.”

“Your estimates?”

“My estimates,” Spock agreed, and Jim honestly felt his shoulders ease.

“I probably owe Scotty a drink, huh?”

“At last count, he claims you owe him a full round.”

“Fair enough.” Jim took a breath, tried not to swallow his own tongue. He was good at this. He was _supposed_ to be good at this. “So I’ve been thinking.”

Oh, that was interesting. Spock stiffened, straightened, but he didn’t let go of Jim’s hand, even if he couldn’t look at him. “You were – you have been in a medically induced coma for two months. Conscious thought, while not impossible – ”

“Yeah, okay, so before the whole dying thing then – ” He said it as quick as he could, wanted the words out his mouth before they started tasting bad, but Spock honest to God _flinched_ , hand jerking, and Jim felt like a fucking _dick_. “Hey, hey, shit, I’m sorry, I won’t – ” He pushed himself up and reached out with his free hand, IV stretched tight, curled his palm over Spock’s neck. “I’m sorry.”

“My father once told me that I should not be afraid to mourn my mother,” Spock said, almost a whisper, and yeah, Jim was such a fucking bastard. “I admit her death is not something I always feel able to bear. But I was – even less prepared to deal with yours.”

Jim kissed him. It maybe – probably wasn’t the best response he could’ve given, but his brain was still stupidly fuzzy, and he needed Spock to stop sounding like that. Like he was _broken_. So he kissed him, even if it was only to remind him, remind them both that he was still there, and fuck it, Jim needed it too, because there was still a tiny part of his mind curled up on itself, scared witless, and Jim would really like that _cut it out_ round about now.

(Spock didn’t exactly seem to _mind_. He got hold of the neck of Jim’s stupid hospital gown and pulled him in, hard, close as they could get with the damn bed in the way, and something in the back of Jim’s brain sparked, because. Because yeah, okay, Vulcans, strong, okay, they could _totally_ work with that.)

By the time they let go, pulled back just enough for Jim to press their foreheads together and _keep_ Spock there, even Spock was breathing pretty hard, and Jim’s lips felt all tingly, in a really, really good way. “Marry me,” he said, and Spock _jerked_. Jim couldn’t help it, he laughed, even if most of it did get caught up in his throat, coming out breathy. “Okay, come on, that was so much more romantic than yours.”

“I did not – ” Spock tried to pull away, and Jim held on tight, yanking him back and dislodging the IV. “Oh, shut up,” he muttered, tugging until the needle slipped out the back of his hand, landing in his lap and leaking all over the place while the machine beeped. “That goes for you too,” he told Spock. “I told you – I’ve been thinking. I’m not always great at it, I know, I’m really stupid sometimes. But I did, I have, and I should’ve said yes. When you. Y’know. Proposed. Although I still say you could’ve done better there.”

Spock was…speechless, eyes wide and mouth almost _hanging_ , and Jim would have totally fistpumped if he’d had a free hand. “Captain – ” he managed, eventually, and Jim groaned again.

“Stop that, stop trying to – we talked about this, about ruining the mood, I know we did – ”

 _“Jim,”_ Spock said, and that – that shut Jim up, made him swallow so it hurt. There was something like a smile lurking about Spock’s lips, corners curled up. “I would be honoured,” was all he said, though, and then Bones was bursting in, talk about ruining the mood, shoving Jim back down and cursing at him, at both of them, as he tried to stop the machine screaming at them – so that’s what that noise had been – and reinsert the IV.

“For God’s sake, man, you actually _died_. You think you could do me a favour and _stay still_ for two fucking minutes? And _you_ – ” to Spock, glaring at him over the brand new needle he was sliding into the back of Jim’s hand (and Jim would’ve protested that bit if he could have formed words) “ – you should know better.”

Spock inclined his head. “My apologies, Doctor McCoy.” His hair stuck up at the back. Jim had never seen it do that in public.

Bones didn’t even bother rolling his eyes, grumbling at the machine and how its readings were going to be fucked for the rest of the day. Jim swallowed a few times and looked up at Spock. He was still – Jim was going to call that smiling. (For now. He was totally going to get something better than that, something _more_.) “Five weeks, huh?”

Bones snorted. “You’ll be lucky.”

“Okay, seriously? Your bedside manner _sucks_ ,” Jim told him. Spock just squeezed his hand, very, very carefully.


End file.
